sipping molten cafe noir and loosely contemplating topics of some importance/ listening to the smiths, panic/ inake de yester pleasingly moderate: 2 btls vin red (705mls, 12% each); usual adjuncts/ this blent with an early night has in some sense restored me (?)/ anyway, feeling pretty good/ have also managed to edit yesterday's poem and write a not-too-bad one today/ this coffee is phenomenal/ my own blend: 1:1 kenya: santos, ground medium/ my brother over today for some measure of fun/ shall try and restrain my drinking/ ha...

...closer to the field-mouse than the falcon. buk.

f'n'n' g'd/ reading poetry and listening to the smiths, shakespere's sister/ recently purchased a dig. c'm'ra and this box which is a scanner, photocopier, printer and photo printer/ thus've a neat multi-media set up at which i sit, drunk, creating all manner of 'artistic' ejaculations/ these i then paper the house with, much to the surprise of my gf when she wakes/ haha...

hikkupz, deep and not-welcome wrack my not-inconsiderable frame, the result of too much fine food and wine/ intake of too-joorz: 200mls methadone; 240mg citalopram; 8500mgs ginseng; 15,000mg epa; 1 multi-vitamin; 1 can guiness (440mls, 4.1%); 350mls red wine (14%); 1 pint guiness (4.2%); 3 cans k (500mls, 8.4%); 2 times twennie zdonez; 2 bottles red (750mls, 13% each)/ and c'est ca/ thus feeling pretty darned fine, nah mean/ i would go so far as to say i'm intoxicated but maintaining self-control (tnx luda for such inspirational lyrics)/ now must wipe the blood from my eyes and rest/ l8rz you-all-of-you...

good day/ merely posting out of habit/ several drinks, meal out with parents, wrote a pome, edited some of my past work and i'll leave you (who?), my faithful reader(s (hopefully(tho' unlikely))) with a nice quote: what do you see today? what is it? where are you? charles bukowski/

eliot wrote 'boimes', and rather good one's at that...'sleeping in snatches'...'a running stream and a watermill beating the darkness'...

seeming passable/ sitting under an open window bathing in cold air and drinking cafe noir/ not a bad day yester/ intake: 1 bottle old peculiar ale (500mls, 5.2%); 3/4 bottle red wine (btl 750mls, 12%); 4 cans k cider (500mls, 8.4% each); 3 cans guiness draft (440mls, 4.2% each); 10,000mg ginseng; 10,000mg epa; 140mg cital.; 110mls methadone/ retired around 2.20am having watched a documentary on the demise of the stone roses and a similar doc. on the sex pistols/ yester was also more productive than most/ i forced out pomes twain, and they weren't that bad/ any-path, will continue when my hands stop shaking/

ah'm drunk uh-geen, ah bin drinkin' k syder/ belching acid fire for my sins/ pleasantly numb in areas though, so it's not all profitless/ profitful is what one should always aim at, with what ever weapon one has or can beg or steal or acquire by other means/ do it, doooooooo it/ nes pas?/ so...i list intake de for the sake of consistency but at the moment doing so seems trite and dull, and i'm sure it's advisable to try and avoid being trite and dull/ i dunno/ and i'm sure you don't either/ but if you do, please let me know/

f'n'n' g'd/ rose late today/ intake de yester: 1 can stella (500mls, 5.2%); 1 bottle premium ale (500mls, 4.2%); 1 bottle white vino (750mls, 14%); 1 can k (500mls, 8.4%); 1 further white, red twain, shared (all 750mls and 14% - ratio 2:1 to me); 6000mg ginseng; 190mls methadone; £20 stown; 9000mg epa; 100mg citalopram/ yeah, so feeling ok/ slept pretty well post phenomenal segs and about 3 hours of miles davis taken in and out of consciousness/ currently listening to the fall, totally wired, rough trade comp./ today have to write a pome/ i need to get back into the habit of writing a pome everyday/ i find daily writing and heavily indulging in music of all types helps my writing more than reading/ i've read alot in the past so have a decent archive of words &c./ i find my more introspective poems have become rather trite and pedestrian/ when i try to achieve sincerity in my writing it sounds terribly dull and, to me at least, embarrassing/ my best writing is done when i need to pour my anguish out/ it's an old story, but a shame that everything has a cost (and good writing a very high one)/

i've been an addict-alcoholic for 10 years now (i'm 28) and i'm hoping i won't end up looking like shaun ryder/ but it's not all bad/ i've had alot of fun/ as chandler said: drunks don't educate, they disintegrate, and part of the process is alot of fun/ anyway, today's intake: 70 mls methadone; 60mls citalopram; 1 can stella (500mls, 5.2%); 2 bottles premium ale (500mls, 4.2%); 1 bottle white wine (750 mls, 14%); 3000mgs epa; 1 mutli-vit.; 1000mg ginseng/ oh and output: 1 poem/

pain, fear, loneliness, all these things contribute to, nay are catalysts for literary success/ an allowance is required so one can cultivate anguish/ i got a first out of fear and loneliness (mainly fear)/ was i happy whilst studying?/ no, but it made the hours slightly more tolerable/ it is difficult to torment oneself when trying to figure out what hegel was on about (i'd pick the work of those whom philosophy people said were difficult -anything too easy and i could run torment alongside my working train of thought/ moreover at the time i was smoking dizzying amounts of skunk and drinking cup post cup of strong coffee, so anytime i could concentrate was precious)/ so what do you get for your efforts?/ momentary release from a terrible life and, if one's efforts bear fruit, absurd egomania shot through with despair re: the dichotomy of your self-image and the sainted grade/novel/whatever and attendant praise/ there are better ways to survive/

feeling marginally better for b'fast out/ 've just written a poem in an attempt to leave some tangible trace of me today/ 1141...contemplating a glass of red, though i really shouldn't (indeed, even contemplate)/ the first time i hauled myself out of a deep and slimy pit of psychosis i did so by writing constantly/ every emotion, thought, sensation i experienced i'd catalogue in minute detail in an attempt to objectify what had become an intolerable nightmare generated by massive introspection/ and it worked/ i became, as a result of my psychosis, terrified of my mind and the thoughts it would generate/ but seeing them laid down in black and white took away their power/ anyway h'over's possessing the superior of me, so i'll write later...

head befuddled and muddled, symptoms of yesterday's sickening excess/ i cannot stomach listing my intake de/ ecoute-ing big brother amd the holding company, turtle blues, and making a vain attempt with the aid of black coffee and a variety of homeopathic remedies to redress this wretched situation/ janice just fucking stuns my face into contortions that connote feelings of ecstasy/ play her next to any soul singer and, with the exception of billie she kills them all/ ploos (non rein a what?) she wrote lyrics rather than trotting out canons worths of standards/ i'm like a turtle, hiding under it's horny shell, but i'm very well protected, i know this goddamned life too well/ gen-E-uz/ coffee finished i now feel marginally better/